


The Idiot's Guide to Falling in Love with Your Best Friend

by Mel_S_Bancroft



Series: Guide to Falling [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5701981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mel_S_Bancroft/pseuds/Mel_S_Bancroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First, don't. Everyone knows it's a bad idea to fall for your best friend. Only an idiot would do so. But maybe...only an idiot could make it work.</p><p>Now with a Russian translation - link in notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Idiot's Guide to Falling in Love with Your Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> I've been debating for a while posting this on here. This is the first fic I wrote for a pairing, and only the second fic I ever wrote. (My very first fic is an angsty reader insert and I'm still debating whether or not to post it.) It's not like the quality of writing is worse than my current fics since I wrote this not even a year ago, so I don't even know why I have reservations about it. Well, whatever.
> 
> This now has a Russian translation done by the lovely [SollyDoll](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/7771592/), which can be found on [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9311453) and [ficbook](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5137743).

First, don’t. Many people have said it before, but I’ll say it again: don’t fall in love with your best friend. It only causes problems. You may think you get along well—okay, maybe it’s more of a fact that you do—but when it all goes wrong and your little world crashes down around you, you can’t go back to how you were before. And then you’ll realize just how much of an idiot you were, and maybe still are, if you hadn’t realized it already.

But when you start noticing your eyes being drawn unconsciously to him like magnets whenever he’s in the room, noticing your breath catch whenever he flashes that dazzling crooked smile at you, noticing your heart almost stop beating, or quicken its pace, or both, whenever you stand next to each other in the locker room, you know it’s already too late.

Second, once you’ve decided to completely ignore the first (and possibly most important) point and go and fall in love with him anyway, it’s impossible to turn back. And, okay, so maybe it wasn’t something you _decided_ to do, and it just happened naturally over the course of the time that you’ve known him because he accepts you—all of you—in a way that the Kiseki no Sedai couldn’t, even though he _is_ very much like them. Though he’s still different, like how his love for the game doesn’t fade but actually seems to grow even as his skills improve, and maybe that’s why you fell for him. Or at least part of the reason.

But no matter what, you can’t tell him. No matter how much you might long to reach out and grab his hand, threading your fingers through his—your hand, you imagine, fitting perfectly in his much larger, much warmer one—you can’t. No matter how much you might long to grab him by the collar and pull him toward you so that you can cover his lips with your own, you can’t. No matter how much you might long to call his name and proceed to speak for a very uncharacteristically long amount of time, telling him all of your feelings for him in a manner that’s impossible for him and his thick head to not understand, you can’t.

Sometimes you’ll wish that he didn’t have such a large presence. Or that you could use your Misdirection in other ways, as well—namely, to misdirect your attention away from the ever-present Kagami Taiga so you wouldn’t notice him and you wouldn’t have to struggle to ignore your steadily growing feelings all day at school. It’s better at practice, or during games, because you can get so into basketball that you momentarily forget your predicament.

You noticed a long time ago that Nigou’s feelings toward people are merely an extension of your own. (You hadn’t realized it at first; at first it just seemed like normal puppy behavior. But when he instinctually picked up on what you thought was your very well-hidden dislike for Momoi-san and ignored her that day that she came to visit, you knew beyond a doubt what the truth was.) Another reason why the name “Tetsuya” so befits him. It does pose a potential problem, though. If your teammates—or worse, Kagami-kun—figure out that the emotions that rarely, if ever, display on your face are constantly and very openly advertised by the puppy, things could get hairy.

Even so, the fact that no one has noticed yet—and, being a wallflower, you most definitely would know if anyone had—gives you confidence that your poker face is still doing its proper job.

Third, there’s a reason it’s called “falling” in love. When you fall, you start plummeting faster and faster as gravity takes stronger and stronger hold on you and draws you toward Earth. But unlike when your body falls through space, when your heart falls for another person, there doesn’t seem to be a terminal velocity. You just keep falling harder and harder and once you reach a certain point, your mind starts forming these delusions that maybe, _maybe_ , he likes you back, but don’t get your hopes up. You’re an idiot if you do, but then, you’re already an idiot for falling in the first place.

When, during timeouts or between quarters, he rubs your back or pats your knee or any of the other small gestures he makes by way of comfort, or encouragement, and his hand seems to linger just a moment too long, it’s just your imagination.

When, at times when he thinks that no one is looking, he tries to get over his fear of dogs and genuinely attempts to befriend Nigou, don’t try to tell yourself that he’s doing it for you. It’s for the team—Nigou _is_ , after all, the team’s pet and mascot, though it’s technically you who owns him. And it’s to get kantoku off his back, so she won’t scold him every time he freaks out, because he’s determined to not freak out anymore. You’ll lose many opportunities to tease him, but maybe that’s just as well. Being close to him is starting to get difficult.

When, during class, you catch him staring at you and he doesn’t look away because he doesn’t realize that you’ve realized, that you’re staring right back, he’s just zoning out, daydreaming when he should be paying attention to the lesson. He’s not gazing at you the same way that you gaze at him—very openly, you know, because no one notices when an invisible person stares. It only seems that way because that’s how you, in your lovesickness, want it to be. But…are you really just imagining that look in his eyes? Your breath catches, chest tightening painfully. No. Look away. Squash that thought firmly before it can get out of hand.

But a seed of it, tiny and unnoticeable, still remains implanted in the back of your mind, out of the way of mental flyswatters. So when, one day, when it’s just the two of you at Maji Burger—he with his heaps of burgers that you never know how he finishes, you with your sweet vanilla shake—and he opens his mouth as if to say something—starts to say something, even—but then changes his mind and shakes his head slightly, that seed sprouts again and you won’t be able to do anything about it. Because it’s certainly not the lighting that’s making Kagami-kun’s cheeks look like they’re dusted lightly with a pale red, making him shift nervously before shoving a bigger bite than normal into his mouth, nearly choking himself in the process.

But still, don’t get your hopes up. Just because you know, this time, that it’s definitely not your imagination, that doesn’t mean that what he was about to say was going to be about _that_.

And don’t get your hopes up, either, when, at the place where you part ways, he turns, hesitates, then turns back. When he places his hand on your head and gently ruffles your baby blue locks. When he bends down, tilting your head back, and plants a quick kiss on your lips before retreating. When what little of his cheeks and ears that you manage to glimpse as he quickly turns and hurries off had darkened to nearly the same shade as his hair. Pinch your cheeks to make sure you’re not dreaming. You’re not. And his warmth is still with you, so you know you didn’t just imagine these past few moments.

Maybe it is, after all, okay to get your hopes up. Just a little.

Fourth, love changes you. It’s not just something that people say, or that happens in romance novels. It really is true.

Like how you didn’t glare at him two days ago when he ruffled your hair. You determine, decidedly, that you still really don’t like it when anyone touches your hair. Just…it was okay when _he_ did it, because it was him. You don’t mind if it’s him.

Like how, when you run into him at school, he turns that same shade of red from before and awkwardly greets you before keeping to himself for the rest of the day, and you feel like your cheeks are burning just as much as, if not more than, his. Because you never blush that much; you never show that much emotion. But somehow he’s bringing it out of you.

Neither of you can look at the other today even if you tried—and you did. You don’t know about him, but you did. As always, your eyes would wander naturally over to his form without you realizing it. That is, until you remember the events of two days before and immediately turn away. Now, more than ever, you are glad for your invisibility and lack of presence.

Later, at basketball, the two of you practice separately, and you won’t change at the same time, won’t shower at the same time. Your teammates think that you are fighting since you’re avoiding each other. You almost want to correct them, saying that it’s sort of hard to fight with someone when you’re too busy avoiding them. Almost.

The next day is better. He manages to greet you normally in the morning, or at least that’s what it looks like to everyone else, but you know that he’s actually thinking about _that_ because he’s actually acting a little nervously and he wouldn’t be if _that_ hadn’t happened.

You know you’re acting a little nervously as well, but he turns away too quickly for you to know if he saw.

Fifth, trust your instincts. They usually know what they’re doing. You might be tempted again to say that everything is all a product your imagination, but you can’t, not when it’s so glaringly obvious that it’s _not_. That kiss was real, and so is the one you share when you’re alone in the locker room together. It lasts a little longer than the first, because now you’re sure that he likes you and he’s sure that you like him, and you have time to feel on your lips more than just a memory, a phantom, of his body heat. But still it’s over much too quickly, and he turns his attention back to his locker, but then he flashes a shy grin at you. You smile back, which surprises him into blushing even harder and quickly averting his eyes. You suppress a chuckle. He’s too cute when he’s like this. And none of it is your imagination.

Later, you find yourself at his apartment, empty of life except for the two of you, sitting on his legs, straddling his hips, while he kisses you more passionately than before. His hands draw you closer by your hips, thumbs resting naturally in the hollows, and your thin fingers entwine around locks of his soft, spiky red-brown hair. His tongue boldly draws a line along your bottom lip, and you almost pull away in surprise, but you don’t, because parting your lips and letting your tongues dance together, back and forth, feels too good. He breaks off for a moment to murmur your name, then plant a kiss on the corner of your mouth, and another on your jaw, and another, and another, all on a path to your ear, and the way he breathes your given name sends a shiver down your spine just as the way his hands slide under your shirt sends one up. You sigh, shuddering, and you feel him smile before he kisses you again, and you feel like you’re melting into him, and he knows it.

When, in your third year, you both get accepted into the same college and he invites you to move into his apartment with him after graduation because the commute is shorter than from your family’s home, and he assures you that it’s really no trouble at all, accept. Accept because the real reason is that he wants to be closer to you, to spend more time with you, and that’s what you want too.

When, after high school, after college, after you’ve been living together for the past few years, he gives you a thin band, a plain silver ring, and uncharacteristically shyly asks you to move back to America with him and marry him, a blush nearly the same shade as his hair gracing his cheeks all the way to his ears, say yes. Say yes, and know that you are an idiot for ever thinking that falling in love with him, your best friend, was sheer idiocy, because it’s not. Because falling in love with your best friend was not the worst mistake of your life, but the best.

**Author's Note:**

> Usually I see Kuroko as being stronger than this. I think I let a little bit too much of myself bleed into it. Even though Kuroko and I are very similar (I even think of him as my otouto-kun), we're still nowhere near the same. For one, the guy he likes actually knows he exists. And likes him back.
> 
> Well, whatever. I hope you liked it nonetheless. ^^


End file.
